Spar
by Flagg1991
Summary: Puberty is hard...and being attracted to your brother is harder. How does Lynn deal with it, and how does Lincoln respond? By bullying each other, of course! Cover by Raganoxer.
1. Morning Roast

Warm hands caressing her naked back, deft fingers dancing lightly along her tense skin, tracing the outline of her shoulder blades, the depression of her spine, stroking her flanks, reaching around and cupping her breasts. Sizzling lips softly brushing her neck and sending shivers up and down her arms. She tosses her head back and purrs deep in her throat like a happy kitten. Thumbs make firm circles against her nipples, and her stomach flutters.

With every touch, burning liquid pools in her core, and the barest beginnings of a powerful orgasm start to form deep in her loins: All it would take to unlock it was a single thrust, a single stroke in the right spot, a faint kiss between her sticky thighs. When it came, she would give herself entirely to it, allowing her eyes to narrow and squeals to rush from her trembling lips...she would let herself shake and quiver...she would allow him to see her at her most vulnerable...as she had let no one see her before.

She leans her head back into the crook of her unseen lover's neck as his hands move over her chest and stomach. She pushes herself up on powerful legs to allow him better access to her center, and when his fingers skip over her pubic mound, she feels herself beginning to melt, but she doesn't care. His fingers dip lower...lower...she rocks her hips, and when he touches her...

 _Beep-beep-beep._

The vision dissipates like smoke in a swirl of wind. _Wait...no..._

 _Beep-beep-beep._

She opens one eye, and the alarm clock on her nightstand watches with smug satisfaction. _6am, time to get up; 6am, time to get up_. Gritting her teeth, she reached out and smacked the off button, plunging the room back into silence. She rolled onto her stomach, snatched the pillow, and covered the back of her head with it. "Uhhhhhh!" she groans frustratedly into the mattress. The dream was _just_ starting to get good! She shifted her hips, and yep, she was wet. Not that she wouldn't be; every morning she woke up horny, and had for...God...how long? A month? Six months? It wasn't so bad once she calmed down, got up, and started her day, but first thing in the morning, it was _hell_. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she could at least get some in her dreams, but every time she came close to being touched down there, or having sex, or anything like that, she either woke up or the dream just _stopped_ , leaving her hot and constipated.

It was a miserable feeling, and she despised it.

Sighing, she tossed the pillow away and got up, swinging her legs out from under the covers and dangling them over the edge of the bed. She laid her hands against the mattress on either side of her and drew a deep breath into her tight chest. The cool air was painful against her fevered skin. _Looks like it's another cold shower for me...oh, joy._

Pushing off the bed, she crossed the room and grabbed her towel from its spot over the closet door. The hall was empty at this hour, the first stirring of her siblings not coming for another half hour. Even though she was up at this time every morning, the total _stillness_ never ceased to amaze – and disconcert – her: She was used to the house being full of activity, excitement, chaos...seeing it quiet like this was like seeing someone without their glasses.

In the bathroom, she threw her towel onto the closed commode and stripped out of the oversized jersey she wore to bed. She peeled off her socks, tossed them aside, and got into the shower, where she braced herself for what was about to come, her eyes closed and her lips pursed like a woman anticipating a shot to the head. She turned the knob, and a jet of ice cold water shot out of the head and lashed her flesh like a whip. She gasped and her entire body tensed. _Worst part of the day! Worst part of the day!_

When she unfroze, she moved as quickly as she could, wetting her hair, squeezing a measure of shampoo into her hand, and then hurriedly rubbing it in. Next, she rubbed the thin lather onto her breasts, her pussy, her ass, and her underarms. She stood under the spray, shivering, and rinsed. Done, she cut the water and jumped out, the cold air needling her goosebump raked skin. She wrapped the towel around her body, grabbed her jersey and her socks, and went out into the hall, which was still as deserted as a desert highway at midnight. In her room, she threw on a pair of red gym shorts and her shirt without turning on the lights. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she pulled a fresh pair of socks on, then her shoes, a shiver racing along her spine. She was _still_ cold.

But she was no longer bothered and hot, so chalk that one up as a win. Lynn Loud – 1, Horniness – 0. She nodded confidently to herself. _You got this, girl,_ she told herself. _Just don't think dirty thoughts._

Yup. I totally got this.

100 percent.

* * *

The shrill cry of the alarm woke Lincoln Loud at 6:45, and like every morning, it scared him half to death. He wasn't a particularly heavy sleeper, and the obnoxious, high pitched scream was enough to make him jump a foot. One day, he swore, he'd hit the ceiling and break his neck.

He shut the alarm off with a groan and rolled over toward the wall, snuggling deeper into the blankets, his erection pushing painfully against the mattress. Oh, hey there, morning wood, I didn't know you were there. Well...he didn't know but he figured; every day recently he woke up with it, and the funny thing was, he didn't have that many sexy dreams. Some, sure, but not every single night, at least not that he knew of. The boners just...happened. Sex dream? Boner. Terrifying nightmare? Boner. Nothing at all? Boner. Of course, that was a fact of life now. Cliff jumps into your lap? Boner. Your thing brushes the inside of your jeans? Boner. You and everyone you love dies in a fiery car accident and then the world flips over and crashes into the sun? Sprung af, fam. Really, it was ridiculous.

Then there were the boners that made sense. The ones he got from Ronnie Anne, Cristina, Mrs. Johnson, that old lady down the street (once!), Luna's friend Sam, Carol Pingrey, Lori's friend Becky. Those weren't _so_ bad, but at least with morning wood he was in the privacy of his own room. The other boners happened in not so private places. He would glance at Ronnie Anne in class and imagine kissing her or playing with her hair, and the next thing he knew, he was splitting his jeans in half and squirming in his seat, praying to God, Allah, and Poseidon for it to go down before he had to get up. Sometimes it did...and sometimes it didn't, so he'd have to bend over and cover his crotch with a book or a folder. It was in those moments, as he shuffled through the hall like a stooped old man, a flimsy math workbook pressed to his junk, that he realized just what a perve he really was. No one else does this...no one else pops random wood for no reason all, just me, Lincoln Loud, the pervert.

Whatever, there are worse things to be than a pervert. Like a vegetarian...or a millennial.

He started to drift back to sleep, but snapped himself awake. Nope, can't do that, because if I do, I'm going to oversleep and have to rush to get ready for school, and probably miss breakfast. No, thank you.

Sighing, he tossed the covers off and got out of bed, his knees shaky and barely able to support him. A wave of dizziness crashed over him, and he fell, smashing his shoulder into the dresser on the way to his knees. Hot pain exploded in his brain. Ahhhhhhh, damn it! You never know how tired you really are until you go to stand up. Apparently, right now he was too tired to exist.

Hissing through clenched teeth, he rubbed his shoulder. Jeez Louise, that hurt. Way to start your day off on the right foot, Linc, get it?

Now he felt sorry for himself.

Getting to his feet, he shuffled to the door, his eyes gumming over. He stopped when his erection pressed painfully into it. Oh, lovely, _you're_ still here. Perfect.

He couldn't go out there like this; those girls would rip him apart. Now he felt even _sorrier_ for himself. He went to his dresser, took out a pair of jeans, and slipped them on. There was still a bulge, but it wasn't as bad. Oh, well, it would have to do.

Opening his door, he stepped into the hall, the light stinging his eyes; he lifted a hand and turned his head. It was brighter than goddamn Nagasaki out here.

"Uh-oh, here comes Peter Cottontail!" Luan said.

Aaaaaand there it is; he wasn't even two steps outside his door and already they were gonna roast him. He pried his eyes open and saw Luan, Luna, and Lisa waiting in line for the bathroom.

"His head looks like a white feather plume hat," Lisa said.

A what? My head looks like a head, Lise.

"He looks like that dude from A Flock of Seagulls," Luna said.

"With each step it waves back and forth like a flag of surrender," Lisa said. "Which is in keeping with his timid personality."

What were they even talking about?

"You ever see _There's Something About Mary?"_ Luan asked the others as he walked up. Lincoln's eyes, hitherto closed, creaked open. Her cheeks were rosy and her hazel eyes danced with a taunting light. He lips pulled back from her teeth in a sharp grin, the light reflecting off the metal of her braces. She was the picture of mischief.

Lincoln opened his mouth to ask what they were making fun of this time (his eyes? His teeth? His...uh...thing?), but he couldn't work up words, so he just shook his head.

"It looks like it wants a high-five," Luna said. She ducked around Luan and flicked his cowlick. "Up top!"

"Cut it out," he mumbled tiredly.

Luan flicked it too. "Booooiiiing!"

"Come on!" he said, pushing her arm away. "I'm not even awake yet!"

Luan pinched his cheek, and he pulled away. "Did _that_ wake you up?"

"Leave me alone!"

"We better back off, girls," Luna said, "before Lincy starts crying."

Luan grinned and tilted forward. "See you at breakfast," she said.

It was a threat. The breakfast table was where the Loud children did the majority of their taunting. Each morning the target would change. Monday it might be Lana, then Tuesday it would be Lori. Lincoln couldn't complain too much when his turn came around since he gave just as much as he got. Still...being on the menu never felt too good.

The door opened, and Leni came out in a green bathrobe; a white towel was wrapped around her hair. "Bathroom's free," she said, and went into her room. Lincoln waited impatiently for his turn, his bladder bursting the more he woke up. By the time Luan came out, he was holding his crotch and dancing from one foot to the other. Inside, he pissed, washed his hands, and splashed cold water in his face. Back in his room, he threw socks and shoes on, then went downstairs. Before he even hit the dining room he could hear the cruel laughter that accompanied the morning roast. Today, apparently, it was Lisa's turn.

"...Dr. Frankenstein," Lori said as he walked in. Lisa was sitting at the head of the table with narrowed eyes, her cheeks red with anger and her lips quivering.

"Uh, no," Lola said, "Dr. Frankenstein had an experiment that actually worked. She's more like Dr. Frankenfailure."

No punches shall be pulled, Lincoln thought as he went into the kitchen and made himself a bowl of cereal.

"Whose dick did you have to suck to win that Jr. Nobel Prize?" Lori asked.

"I did not perform fillatio in exchange for that award," Lisa said tightly, "you know damn well I won it on my own."

"So it was, like, a clerical mix-up?" Leni asked.

"No," Lisa said.

"It was a fraud," Lucy said. "The other guy was robbed."

Lincoln came in and sat down next to Luan. On her other side, Lynn was grinning malevolently at Lisa. "I have one word for your little win, Lisa. Invalid."

"Go swat a ball," Lisa said.

"Like Lisa swatted a ball to win that prize," Lori said.

"Alright, goddamn it!" Lisa roared, pushing away from the table and jumping up, "I've had enough!"

"Uh-oh," Luna said, "she's gonna throw a temper tantrum."

"Cry like the little four-year-old you are," Lynn said, rubbing her fist to the corner of her eye.

Lisa balled her fists and started to shake.

"She's, like, all red," Leni said. "Someone get her a sippy cup before she overheats."

Everyone laughed, and Lisa shook violently. It looked like she was going to explode.

Lincoln felt kind of bad for her...then he remembered the trash she was talking upstairs and didn't.

"Guys, knock it off," Luan said, "she looks like she's going to poop herself."

"Hey," Lori said, "four-year-olds _do_ have accidents..."

That was it. Lisa leaned forward and screamed. _"I'll kill you all!"_

Everyone laughed. Lynn pounded the table, Luan slapped her knee, Lori and Leni put their heads together and wept, Luna held her hands to her stomach.

"You can dish it out but you can't take it," Lincoln said.

Lisa whipped her head around. _"Fuck you!"_

Everyone laughed even harder. " _Someone's_ a potty mouth!" Luna said.

"Put her in timeout, Lori!" Leni said.

Spinning, Lisa shoved her chair over and stormed out, stopping at Lincoln and leaning in, her eyes blazing. "Enjoy your breakfast, you son of a bitch."

She sulked out, and everyone continued laughing.

You know...even though she made fun of him upstairs...she _was_ only four, which was easy to forget. Now Lincoln felt kind of like a dick. "Maybe we took that too far," he said.

Luan rolled her eyes. "And there's Lincoln sermonizing through chipped teeth."

Lori snorted. "Luan...you are literally the _last_ person who should be talking about someone's teeth."

"You could land a plane on those things," Lana said.

"Or a dick," Lynn added.

Luan's face turned red as she realized her plan to turn her sisters on Lincoln had backfired. Lincoln took a bite of cereal and smiled smugly.

"I hear she lands lots of dicks," Luna said. "Who's that fat kid you hang out with, Linc? Poppa Wheelie or some shit? Luan licked his balls in the girls' room."

"I did _not!"_

Lynn leaned in and squinted her eyes. "Hey, guys, there's pubes stuck in her braces!"

Luan closed her mouth and whipped her head away, bowing over her bowl, her ponytail cracking like a whip.

"I feel so bad for her," Lola said, "settling for fat boys because no other man will touch her." She shivered.

"Can you blame them?" Luna asked. "She's got a mouth like a chainsaw."

Luan's face was red and her eyes were dark, her mouth puckered up in a little expression of misery. Lincoln laid his hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at him. "Hey," he said softly, then grinned, "see you at breakfast."

She pushed him away and he laughed. "Be careful, Linc," Lynn said, "I hear Beaver Girl bites."

"I don't know," Lincoln said, "can she even open her mouth? Those teeth must weigh a ton."

Lynn laughed, and their eyes met behind Luan's back. "Her braces aren't for correction, they're for support!"

"Her back must hurt lugging them around all day."

"Hey, what do you call Luan on her knees?" Lynn asked. "A Black and Decker Pecker Wrecker."

Lincoln and Lynn both doubled over with laughter. Sighing angrily, Luan pushed away from the table, got up, and sulked off much like Lisa had, which made them laugh even harder. "Two down," Lincoln said, "who's next?"

"I bet I can make _you_ storm off," Lynn said.

"Pffft, I bet I can make _you_ storm off," Lincoln said.

"Oh, _this_ should be good," Lori said, settling back in her chair.

A tiny smile played across Lynn's freckled face and a malicious light shone in her eyes. "I saw you peeing the other day. Your dick is small."

"Not as small as those zits you call breasts."

"At least _my_ arms don't look like limp noodles."

"At least _I'm_ not a meathead jock who's gonna peak in high school and then spend the rest of her life talking about her glory days while bagging the groceries of more successful classmates."

Lynn blinked. "I'm gonna go pro." Her tone was suddenly serious.

"That's what they _all_ say, sweetie. Trust me: You won't."

The light in her eyes faltered for a second. He was getting to her. Ha!

"Says the geek with no life who reads comic books in his underwear."

"The geek who can make a passing grade without running to his four-year-old sister for help."

Lynn's brow crinkled. "The geek who pines after a girl who doesn't want him. 'Oh, Lincoln, I'm too tough for love.' Meanwhile she's trying to come up with a way to let you down that won't make you cry like a little bitch."

Lincoln flinched, and a chorus of _ooooohs_ erupted from their sisters.

Okay... _that_ hurt. Lincoln had been trying to make Ronnie Anne his official girlfriend for a long time, and every move he made, she evaded. Sometimes he really _did_ wonder if she was trying to let him down easy.

"You know how you say without sports your life is meaningless? Yeah, even _with_ sports it's meaningless."

"Ooooh, shit," Luna said.

Lynn's face darkened and she leaned in, shifting in her seat. "Why don't you go back to your closet, you albino mistake?" Her voice was dangerously low. She was _mad_. "We never wanted a brother."

That hurt too, even though he knew it wasn't true.

"Dad wanted a son," Lincoln said, "and when he thought he wasn't going to get one, he settled for naming _you_ Lynn Jr. Poor guy. He wasted his name on a girl."

Color crept into Lynn's cheeks. "Dad should have worn a condom, then we wouldn't have _you_ hanging around."

"The best part of you dripped down the crack of Mom's ass and wound up as a stain on the sheet."

"Faggot."

"Dyke."

"White-haired pussy."

"No boy wants you, Lynn, because you look like a boy and smell like one too."

Lynn stood up. "You look like you're about to get your teeth knocked down your throat."

Lincoln stood up too, his heart starting to race and his body feeling shaky. He would never admit it, but he was kind of scared. Lynn hit _hard_. After the shit she said, though, it was on. He was sure he could get at least _one_ punch in, and he was going to make it count.

"Hey, guys?" Lori asked uncertainly.

"You look like you're about to eat someone's pussy, you fucking lezzie."

Lynn cocked her fist back, but Luna grabbed her and yanked her back. "Fuck you!" Lynn shouted. "Get out of our house! No one wants you here!" Lincoln flipped her off, and she thrashed in Luna's arms.

"Calm down!" Luna yelled.

"No, fuck him!" Lynn roared. She fixed her eyes on Lincoln. "You're a bitch."

Lincoln chuckled. "I might be a bitch, but guess what: I win. You couldn't take it and you cracked. Congratulations on losing."

Lynn sneered.

"Lincoln, shut up and sit down," Lori said. "Lynn, stop being an asshole. And he's right, you lost, get over it."

Lynn pulled away from Luna and threw all her siblings a vicious look. "Fuck all of you."

She grabbed her gym bag from beside her chair and stormed off.

"Three down," Lincoln said loud enough for her to hear.

"Lincoln, shut the fuck up or I'm going to rip your balls off and make you wear them like earrings," Lori said.

Lincoln held up a placating hand and went back to his cereal, but inside, he was smiling. You know what? That was actually kind of fun.


	2. Toe to Toe

**A lot of people have asked me why I write Lincoln as having an antagonistic relationship with his sisters in certain stories. Long story short: One of the things that draws me to TLH (and I know it's in a million other shows and movies, etc) is the fact that these kids screw one another, manipulate one another, tease one another, get into huge fights...all this stuff...and at the end of the day they hug and kiss and have each other's backs because they're family. That's really sweet. Plus...siblings tease each other. Sure, it might be extreme in my stories, but they're humorous fan fictions. Don't take it too seriously.**

 **Dread55: Don't worry, it's not dark.**

* * *

Mood swings are a bitch. One minute she was laughing and the next she was crying. Okay, not literally crying because she didn't cry, but you get the picture. When she stormed out of the house and started toward school, she was seething with rage, her face burning, her fists clenched, and her eyes hard. Two blocks later, she started to laugh; she stopped, bent at the waist, and wrapped her arms around her stomach. Tears rolled down her freckled cheeks and anyone who saw her might think she was a madwoman, but she didn't care.

That son of a bitch...he was right. He won fair and square. They went toe-to-toe and she stomped off just like Lisa and Luan. _Good job, Linc,_ she thought as she brushed a tear away from her eye. She didn't understand how it happened, though. She was having fun with him, first roasting Luan then roasting each other, then...bam, he rubbed her the wrong way and she took off. She remembered what she said about them not wanting a brother and calling him a mistake, and she felt a sharp twinge in her heart. She didn't mean that. At all. It's not fair (or right) to compare your siblings, but if someone had a gun to her favorite football and made her choose, Lincoln would be her favorite because he was always there for her...when it was important, and when it _wasn't_ so important.

Suddenly, Lynn felt so sad that the tears in her eyes turned from ones of laughter to ones of, well, sadness. She called up a vision of him at their roast session, cocky grin and the bright, evil eyes, and a smile touched her lips. She _was_ impressed. Linc had the habit of being a little too timid for his own good, but that was beginning to change. Along with other things, she'd noticed. His voice was lower and there was the faintest white fuzz on his upper lip. He also sometimes came out into the hall in the morning with, uh...Lynn's face flushed...a hard-on. Not that she looked! Any more than was healthy, at least. She _was_ a girl, and it was kind of hard not to look (curiously) when a guy walked in with a massive tent in his tightie whities...hard not to wonder what it looked like...and felt like.

She felt herself beginning to stir.

 _Ew, gross, Jesus!_

It was natural though! When you see something like that...it's not that you're horny for your brother...you just see it and your body responds. Your body's dumb like that. It doesn't care whether he's your brother...hell, does it even _know?_ It wants something, it sees it, and there you go.

Something hard, hot, and...

 _Shut the fuck up, Lynn!_

Alright, yeah, no more...think of something else.

That shit about peaking in high school really hurt. Despite being big and tough, she was sensitive sometimes, and him saying that got to her. She knew not everyone could go pro, and that a lot of people who tried really did wind up bagging groceries or flipping burgers, but not her...she really _was_ going to go pro.

It's like he doesn't even support me.

Tears flooded her eyes.

Ugh, get a grip.

If she didn't know any better, she was going to start her period...but she literally just got _off_ her period last week.

 _Way to ruin my day, Linc._

It wasn't his fault...not entirely. She's the one who suggested they try to make each other storm off...and she lost. She grinned. It was fun, though. He was getting better with his barbs. Hell, she was _still_ thinking about them, and she was almost to school. Peaking in high school...dad wasted his name on a _girl_. It was like a sparring session, only mental instead of physical.

Did he win because she was stupid?

 _The geek who can make a passing grade without running to his four-year-old sister for help._

So she had Lisa tutor her. What of it? She was a literal genius, after all, four or not. Still...he kind of had a point. He was more...what do you call it...cerebral than her. She wasn't much into reading or any lame stuff like that. She played ball and worked out. Maybe she wasn't _dumb_ , but he had a little bit of an advantage.

Anger filled her. Not for long. She'd cram her head full of every goddamn book she could find, then she'd cut him to ribbons with her words. She was Lynn motherfucking Loud, and she was the best at everything she put her mind to. Give her a week and Lincoln would be laid out on the floor, his forehead cutely pinched and his eyes closed to slits. _You got me, Lynn...you're the best...I admit defeat..._

She smiled at the image, then frowned when Dream Lynn got to her knees and kissed Dream Linc's cheek in a strange and tender way...then recoiled when she kissed his lips.

Goddamn it! She threw a frustrated punch at thin air and then a roundhouse for good measure. Stop having weird thoughts, you fucking pervert bitch! And stop with the fucking mood swings, too. You're gonna give me whiplash.

Think about something else...something that's _not_ Lincoln...or any other boy for that matter. Think about practice later. Yeah! Practice! She loved practice because it provided the perfect opportunity to get out all of her aggressions and pent-up energy...that's the ticket...run yourself ragged so that at the end of the day you're pleasantly weary and can't muster the power to even _think_ of certain things.

Certain _sexy_ things.

Like sex.

Ugh. Here we go again.

And there she went.

* * *

Lunch was Lincoln Loud's _least_ favorite time of the day. One, the food sucked. Honestly, it was trash. They eat better in prison. He remembered his first experience with school food _waaaaay_ back on his very first day of Kindergarten. It was pizza...your standard cheese pizza. It looked alright...maybe a little pale, but whateves. He was stoked the _whole_ day. He got to the cafeteria, got his tray, sat down, and took a giant, hungry bite...then promptly spat it back out. What the fuck is this shit? He thought. Okay, that's not what he thought at the time, but it was close. Two...the place was _packed_ with girls. Tall ones, short ones, skinny ones, fat ones, brown ones, white ones...it was like a Motley Crue video. Maybe there were boys too, he didn't know, all he saw were skirts, dresses, ponytails, soft eyes, silky legs, and budding breasts. With this much stimuli, Lincoln Jr. was standing tall and, brother, lunch was almost over; if that bell rang right now, he'd either have to stay seated until he went soft, or he'd have to get up and bend over like Mr. Grouse on a bad arthritis day.

This was getting _really_ old.

He sighed, sat back, and snatched his milk carton. He took a deep drink and sat it back on his tray. Why did people think he was such a pussy? Lisa: _Oh, his timid personality_. Then Lynn straight up called him a pussy. After that, as he was getting ready to leave, Luna cornered him in the living room, an uncertain expression in her eyes. _Hey, bro, look, uh...don't let what Lynn said get to you. We all love you, man._

That kind of hurt his feelings. He wasn't some sensitive little bitch. Hell, did _he_ storm out of the dining room? No, he had a full and balanced breakfast and ate at a leisurely pace, meanwhile Lynn got all huffy and ran away. He thought of her face as Luna held her back: Cheeks red, eyes narrow and hard. She was cute when she was angry.

Not in a weird way! Like...an insulting way. Like, 'LOL, you're cute, little girl,' and not like, 'I like your freckles and sometimes I wonder what it would feel like if I ran my fingers through your hair even though you're my sister.' _That_ would be gross. Sure, sometimes he found himself looking at one of them (Luan in her little nightgown, Lori in her short shorts), and it made him feel like a piece of shit, but when a girl's running around with a thin nightdress that clings to her bare breasts like a second skin...where else are your eyes going to go? And if you get a boner...shit happens.

 _Pervert...you're a pervert._

Sigh. At least I'm not a hipster; I'd rather run through all my sisters like Jethro at a family reunion than wear a man bun, vape, and drink PBR. Oh, and sit around my dorm and sing Bohemian Rhapsody with all my hipster friends. Lincoln shuddered.

"...so, you think she'd say yes?" Clyde asked.

Dude, you were talking?

"Uhh...sure..." Lincoln said.

Clyde shrugged his shoulders. "I mean, I dunno. I like her but I don't think she likes me. I'm not much to look at."

Lincoln glanced at his friend. He really couldn't judge because he was straight and didn't like guys, but...you know...Clyde looked normal. At least he didn't weigh five hundred pounds like Poppa Wheelie or look like Bozo the Clown like Rusty Spokes. Now _those_ were some goofy looking motherfuckers. "Go for it, dude," Lincoln said. "The worst she can do is say no." Who 'she' was, Lincoln didn't know.

Clyde shrugged one shoulder. "I'm kinda...you know...fragile. I don't know if I can take the rejection."

Lincoln opened his mouth but closed it again. He couldn't say much on that front because he was kind of the same way. He tried to move his and Ronnie Anne's relationship along, but he didn't have the stones to come outright and say "I wanna be your boyfriend." What if she said no? What if Lynn really _was_ right and Ronnie didn't want him? What if he was wasting his time?

"Just do it," Lincoln said, "you'll never know if you don't try. You know that cheesy poster in Mr. Bradsher's office?"

Mr. Bradsher was the guidance counselor...a big fat Jewish guy who looked like Santa Claus and dressed like it was still 1975 ( _plaid blazer, who are you, Howard Cosell?)._ Like all guidance counselors, Mr. Bradsher has a bunch of stupid motivational posters plastered to the walls of his office. One had a picture of a basketball dropping into a hoop (which made Lincoln think of Lynn) and said: "Goal. Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does." Ugh, gag me with a spoon.

"Which one?" Clyde asked.

"The one that says: Shoot for the moon...even if you miss, you'll land among the stars."

Clyde groaned. "That one gave me cancer."

"Shoot for the moon, buddy."

"I'd probably have a better chance of getting the moon to be my girlfriend than Penelope."

 _Penelope? Oh, Jesus!_ Penelope was the one girl in school who had _never_ given Lincoln a hard-on. With her bushy hair, glasses, and general she-geekiness, she reminded him of someone's crazy cat lady aunt. Though if you turned off the lights, she would be just as soft and warm as...

Lincoln's dick twitched.

 _Kill me now!_

"I just don't think I have a chance."

"You're fine," Lincoln said. Penelope wasn't much to look at, so he doubted she'd be too picky. She was probably desperate and would take the first thing that came her way. Why can't _I_ be into an ugly girl? Why do I have to into Ronnie Anne, a virtual fucking angel? I oughta steal Penelope from under his nose...

Ew. No.

"Shoot for the stars," Lincoln repeated, more to himself than to Clyde. Maybe he should take his own advice and go for it with Ronnie Anne. The worst she could do was say no...but that was pretty bad, so...yeah, probably not.

Sigh.

* * *

Lynn Loud snatched the ball, drew it to her chest, and darted down the field, pounding as hard as she could, opening all the flumes and stoking the sexual energy that had been building in her stomach all day. She was practically flying, the cold autumn air streaking through the slats of her helmet and touching her sweaty face like the fingers from her dream touched her back...

Her feet tangled and she face-planted into the turf, jarring vibrations running through her head. Shit!

The coach blew the whistle. "Another fantastic flub by Loud," she called, and a bunch of the other girls laughed.

Fuck you, bitch.

Lynn pushed herself up and grabbed the ball, her teeth bared. Nice going. You thought about something you shouldn't have been thinking about and you failed. Lincoln was right; you might as well put an application in at Meijer now and practice your bagging skills. Loser.

"Hey, Loud," the coach said, coming over, "why don't you hit the shower before you break something?"

"I'm fine," Lynn said tightly.

"Alright, let me rephrase that: Hit the shower before you break something."

Lynn flashed. "Fine." She snapped the ball back and threw it as hard as she could, sending it soaring high into the air and toward the parking lot. "There's your ball." She spun around and started toward the locker room.

" _Someone's_ PMSing," the coach teased.

Lynn's shoulders hunched and she _almost_ turned to say something, but instead she kept going, hot and inexplicable tears welling in her eyes. She looked stupid and weak in front of the whole team.

In the locker room, she ripped her helmet off and slammed it against the bench, hoping to god it cracked and feeling a rush of disappointment when it didn't. She opened her locker, grabbed her things, then hurriedly stripped naked. Under one of the heads, she turned the water on and winced at how cold it was. She squeezed some body wash into her loofa and lathered up, being careful when she ran it across her tender breasts and between her legs. Cleaning between her legs was the worst because it made it _really_ hard not to think about sex.

What a fucking slut! That's almost all she thought about anymore: The whole day it was sex, sex, sex. Sex and Lincoln.

Not together, though! She'd think about how sorry she was she said they never wanted a brother, and how mad that peaked in high school comment made her, and how much fun she had sparring with him. When she got home, she decided, she was going to make him spar with her again. How, she wasn't sure. Maybe she'd steal one of his stupid little video games or...or something, she didn't know. She was in the mood to play rough, though.

Presently, she sucked it up and rubbed the loofa between her legs, gasping at the hot sensations rising in her stomach. Her eyelids fluttered and her teeth unconsciously raked across her bottom lip. She braced herself against the tile wall and rubbed slowly. Her knees started to quiver and her breathing grew short. She purred and bowed her head. It felt _really_ good.

An image of Lincoln flashed across her mind, and she jumped back with a cry. Dude, leave me alone!

Feeling a hot rush of shame, Lynn rinsed off and cut the spray. She wasn't thinking of him as she touched herself, thoughts just...came. She touched herself only one time before...and gave up when her mind drifted to an upcoming game and the moment passed.

Whatever. She shouldn't be touching herself anyway. In the locker room, she got dressed, and then walked home through the gathering gloom. A chilly wind swept along the street and needled her bare arms and legs. When she got to the house, she went through the front door, pulled her gym bag off, and hung it up. When she turned to the living room, she started. A little white tuft of hair stuck up from the back of the armchair. Lincoln!

A grin spread across her face. She dropped to a crouch and crept up to the armchair. Paper rustled as he flipped a page: He was either doing homework or reading one of his dorky little comics. Pushing up on powerful legs, she leaned over the back and looked down: He was lounging with his feet resting against one arm and his head resting against the other, his face open and goofy as he scanned his comic.

For a moment she simply watched him, smiling when he winced cutely at something happening in the book. She realized she was holding her breath, and let it out.

Look at this guy. Completely unaware that she was inches away from him. Tsk, tsk, tsk. You gotta be aware of your surroundings, Linc-O.

Because when you're not, something like _this_ might happen.

She grabbed his cowlick, yanked as hard as she could, and then leapt over the back of the chair. He yelled and jerked, moving his legs: Lynn dropped into the space they left behind. "Hey, Linc, what're we reading?" She snatched the comic out of his hands and then stood. "Oh, Chase Savvy, I _love_ this guy."

"Give it back!" he yelled, getting to his feet.

Lynn ducked aside. "When I'm done." She held the comic over her head and craned her neck. "Who's that loser in the mask? He looks kinda like you."

Lincoln jumped up and tried to grab the comic, but Lynn wheeled around and started walking toward the kitchen. "Oh, Ace Savvy, I'm Lincoln Loud and I jerk off to you every night."

"Give it back, Lynn," Lincoln said tightly.

"Or what? You're gonna summon your legion of geek friends to come and beat me up?" She glanced over her shoulder just as he threw himself at her; her eyes widened, and then he slammed into her. He didn't weigh very much, but he hit her like a car, and suddenly the floor was rushing up to meet her.

This time she wasn't wearing a helmet, and her forehead absorbed the brunt of the impact. She cried out as pain exploded in her skull. He was on her back, reaching for the comic, which had fallen from her hands and landed a few inches away. His body was warm and sleek.

"Oh, no you don't!" Lynn cried, and rolled him off. He yelled as he spilled onto his back. He tried to get up, but Lynn shoved him back down and mounted him, pinning his wrists to the floor. "Bet'cha can't get up, you little bitch," she grinned. His face darkened, and he started to struggle.

"Get off!"

Lynn leaned in. "Make me."

He bared his teeth and tried to get up, but couldn't. He threw his hips forward in an attempt to buck her off, and his crotch rubbed against hers. Her loins tingled, and her stomach pinched in horror. Her grip loosened, and he flung her aside: The back of her head smacked the couch, and more pain filled her skull. Ow!

Panting, he got to his feet and snatched his comic off the floor. "Nice try, little girl," he said, and grinned, "but next time bring your A game."

Lynn glared at him. "I _let_ you do that."

"And I'm going to let you walk away without kicking you in the face."

Lynn was springing forward before she knew what she was doing: She took out his legs and he fell back with a sharp cry, the comic flying from his hands and fluttering back to the floor. Lynn went to get on top of him again, but his palm crashed into the side of her head, and she fell over, landing on her side. Did...did he just slap her?

For a moment neither of them did anything. "Oh, shit," Lincoln said, panic in his voice. "Lynn, I'm sorry."

He knelt beside her and laid a hand on her shoulder...a warm, soft, caring hand. "Are you alright?"

She was frozen. What should she do? Slap him back? Say 'No big, nice spar, bro?' Just lay here?

"Lynn?" he asked miserably.

The hitch in his voice decided her. She sat up and shook her head. "I guess when you take a geek's comic he gets retard strength."

Lincoln's brows knitted, and Lynn's heart fluttered. "That's one of your superpowers, isn't it? Along with social awkwardness and repelling girls?"

His face was starting to turn a cute shade of red. She grinned viciously. "Small Penis Man...away!"

"Fuck you, Lynn," he muttered, and got to his feet. He crossed over to his comic, bent, and snatched it up. He went back to the chair and plopped down.

Lynn got up, went around the side of the couch, and started up the stairs. "Don't jack off _too_ hard to that comic, Linc. You might pluck it out like a hair."

He lifted his middle finger, and Lynn stuck out her tongue.


	3. Sibling Rivalry

**Yes, eventually they will admit their feelings to themselves and to each other. That's how a Flagg1991 story works.**

 **STR2D3PO: I made them assholes because it's fun to write them that way.**

* * *

Did she notice?

He didn't think she did, though she might have and just didn't say anything because she didn't want to make it awkward. He hoped to God she _didn't_. Hell...how do you explain _that? Hey, I got a woody while you were on top of me, but I'm not, like, horny for you or anything. It just happens._

Yeah...there was _no_ way to tell your sister you got hard when she was in your lap without sounding like a freak. _He_ knew he wasn't. After all, he got hard when Cliff got in his lap, and freak or no freak, he sure as _shit_ didn't want to fuck the cat.

Even so...when he jerked up and Lincoln Jr. brushed against Lynn Jr. Jr., he felt...something strange, like an electric shock. Panic flooded him, and he threw her off because...he shoved it out of his mind and went back to his comic. He'd been on the same page for almost an hour now, and if he didn't put his nose to the grindstone, he'd have to pick it back up in the morning, and he hated leaving a comic unread overnight. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand. 11:10. Twenty minutes. He had to be under the covers with the lights off in twenty minutes unless he wanted to be a zombie tomorrow. He flipped through the pages he hadn't read yet. Six. He could read six pages in twenty minutes. Hell, he could read them in _ten_ minutes.

Did she notice, though?

He sighed and tossed the comic aside. Just drop it, okay? No, she didn't notice, because if she did, she would have freaked out, and did she freak out? No, she didn't.

Then again...she did keep looking at him during dinner, the kind of quick, furtive glances he stole of Ronnie Anne at school. _Was he hard?_ He imagined her thinking. _What a fucking freak!_

His stomach clenched. He didn't want her to think he was a freak. He didn't want _any_ of his sisters to think he was a freak.

But especially not Lynn.

Ugh. Stop thinking about her. Think about something else, really. Like Ronnie Anne. Yeah, yeah. Land among the stars, remember? He was going to ask her out, he'd decided. And he was going to make it one hundred percent clear what he meant. Not 'Hey, let's hang,' but 'Will you go on a date with me?' He wasn't going to give her even the slightest opportunity to misunderstand...or pretend to, because he _really_ wanted to go out with her. She was perfect. So determined. So confident. So strong.

Just like Lynn.

"You son of a bitch," he cursed himself.

It was true, they _were_ alike.

So? That didn't mean shit. Ronnie Anne and Lori were also alike because they both have long hair and breasts. Hell, Ronnie Anne and the Queen of England are alike in that respect. Did that mean he was into Her Majesty or whatever she called herself? Absolutely not.

He grabbed the comic and laid back. Alright. Focus and stop being weird.

* * *

Fingers ran through her thick, chestnut hair and burning lips trailed hot kisses along the side of her neck and across her shoulder. Liquid fire pooled in her loins and her heart hammered against her rips, making her breast quiver. "Yes," she muttered drunkenly as his hands crept over her shoulders and down her front. She was close from just his kisses and his touches...close to lying against him and shaking with her orgasm...close to giving herself to him and being his girl and...

 _Beep-beep-beep._

Lynn's eyes snapped open and a soft curse left her lips. Every time! She even took a shower in the evening and set her alarm later so she would have extra time to sleep.

Bitterly disappointed, she slapped the OFF button and got up, trying to ignore the moisture between her legs. In the hall, Luna, Leni, Lucy, and Lincoln were waiting for the bathroom, the latter with his head thrown back and his eyes closed...he never was a morning person. Lynn's eyes fell on her brother's naked chest, and her breath hitched. His skin was taunt and smooth, his muscles beginning to tone as puberty settled in. Her eyes flicked instinctively down to the front of his briefs, and a tingle went through her core. The fabric clung tightly to his bulge, and she could _just_ see its outline...full...warm...not entirely soft...

She shook her head. You woke up horny, okay, but that does not make it okay to eye fuck your own brother. She looked away and got in line behind him. Her eyes, however, were drawn to his bare back. Would his skin still be warm from the bed and blankets?

You know what he could use? A wake up call.

Grinning, Lynn opened her palm, drew it back, and brought it down as hard as she could. It stuck with a meaty _slap_ , and he wailed, his hips thrusting forward. She snorted laughter. "You really..."

The words cut off when he spun and shot out his arms, shoving her back. With a "Whoa!" her feet tangled and she fell hard on her ass, the air leaving her lungs in a rush.

"You little _prick."_ She got up and sprang at him, but someone grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around.

"What are you doing?" Lori demanded.

"Lincoln pushed me!"

Lori arched a brow. "And you slapped the shit out of his back _literally_ for no reason. I saw it."

Well...she wasn't wrong. "I was just trying to wake him up," Lynn said, and laughed.

She stopped laughing when Lori shoved her back, and she fell on her ass again. The older girl crossed her arms and glared. "If you wanna be a bully, _I'm_ gonna be a bully."

"Stop," Lincoln said. "I can handle that bitch myself."

Lynn's head whipped around. What did he call her? He regarded her with heavy brows and downturned lips, his arms crossed much like Lori's. She was eye level with his crotch, and couldn't stop herself from looking, her heart clutching and her core tingling. Yuck.

But why was flicking her eyes away so goddamn hard?

"You couldn't handle Lola, you little pussy," she finally said because she had to say _something._

"Lynn, shut the fuck up," Lori said, then, to Lincoln, "turn around."

Lincoln glanced at her, then did. A big red handprint marred his flesh, and Lynn winced. It _did_ look like it hurt.

"Jesus Christ, Lynn," Lori said as Lincoln turned back around. "You, like, need to knock it off or I'm going to tell Mom and Dad."

"But..."

"Shut up and get back in line."

With that, Lori brushed past and went into her room. Lincoln grinned smugly, then turned his back to her. Part of her wanted to slap him across the back of his head...and another part wanted to hug him, tell him she was sorry for hurting him, and kiss his cheek. _I'm sorry, Linc...I didn't mean to hurt you..._

Okay, she kind of did, but still.

She sighed and got to her feet, her arms aching to be around her brother's shoulders.

* * *

You know...first the bitch takes his comic book then gets on top of him and makes him hard...which he did not enjoy and worried about all night...then she haunted his dreams (he really didn't want to think about those...)...then, to top it all off, she belts the piss out of him. Look at this! It looked like someone dipped their hand in paint and then pressed their open palm against his shoulder. It stung like a bitch, too.

Lincoln frowned at himself in the bathroom mirror and poked the handprint, hissing over clenched teeth. Alright, Lynn, you wanna play? Let's play.

He unlocked the door and went out into the hall. Lola, Lana, and Lisa waited behind Lynn, whose arms were crossed defensively over her chest; her eyes were downcast. He lingered on her for a moment, a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, then he shook his head. You got something coming to you, he thought with a grin. In his room, he pulled on his jeans then slipped his shirt over his head, another hiss escaping his lips when the fabric rubbed against stupid Lynn's stupid handprint.

After yanking on his shoes, he went downstairs, where Lori, Leni, Luna, and Luan were ripping Lucy to shreds.

"How many times a week do you think she cuts her wrists?" Luan asked.

"She's too chickenshit for that," Luna said, "she draws her scars with marker like the poser she is."

Lucy simply ignored them.

"She has to talk to spirits because no one _else_ wants to talk to her," Lori said. "All that 'woe is me' bullshit puts everyone off."

In the kitchen, Lincoln grabbed a bowl, threw some gay ass rainbow cereal into it, then topped it with milk...filling it almost to the top. Milk was heavily rationed in the Loud house, and if Mom saw him using this much, she'd flip. Lincoln didn't care, though; there was a brunette girl with cute freckles who had a little payback coming her way.

Wait. Cute?

He shook his head. Focus, Loud. He stood by the counter waiting, his fingers drumming impatiently. After nearly ten minutes, Lynn came into the dining room and sat at the end of the table...away from everyone else. Perfect. Lincoln grinned, picked up his bowl, then started toward the empty chair next to her, walking as slowly as he could so no milk sloshed over the side of the bowl.

Leni said something to Lynn, and Lynn's face flushed. "Piss off, dipshit," she said tightly. Her focus was on the blonde, and not on the white-haired boy slowly approaching, a wicked grin cleaving his face. She didn't turn until she heard a forced, exaggerated, "Oops." When she did, a wave of cereal choked milk splashed across her face.

The chatter in the room _stopped._

"I'm so sorry, Lynn," Lincoln said. Her sopping hair hung limply in front of her eyes, but she could _hear_ the bastard's smile. "I'm really klutzy today."

Hot anger rose in her, and she parted her bangs, ready to get up and kick ass...but she stopped when their eyes locked. That cocky grin...those bright, devious eyes...the challenging tilt of his head...she was captivated, and for a minute she just looked at him. Then she shocked herself by giggling. What? No, get up and slap his head off! Instead she bent at the waist and laughed so hard tears sprang to her eyes. Lincoln laughed too, dropping to one knee and leaning heavily against the table. Their sisters watched them with puzzled expressions. "What's with them?" Lola asked.

"I don't know, but they're fucking weirdos," Lori said dismissively.

"You should have seen your face!" Lincoln cried, slapping his knee. He sucked in his bottom lip and crossed his eyes. "'Huh?'"

"I'm gonna have to take a shower now," Lynn hitched. "I'm full of milk and shit. You little fuck."

Lincoln got himself under control first. It _was_ funny, though. The way her eyes widened as she watched her dairy based doom approach, the way she spun to the side as if punched...the way sugary flakes stuck in her hair. Take _that_ , bitch!

"If you're gonna take a shower you better hurry," Lori said, "we leave in fifteen minutes."

Fifteen minutes? Oh shit. Lynn's laughter died and she jumped up. "I'll be _right_ back."


	4. One Good Turn Deserves Another

_**Gallifrey denizen: Maybe she can't handle it in the show but she can here. I see her as the ultimate stoic character. Teasing doesn't bother her. Of course I see Lisa as stoic, but she took off like a rocket in chapter one, so who knows?**_

* * *

 _Why did I crack up like that?_ Lynn wondered. She was sitting in history class and trying to focus on what the teacher was saying, but to no avail. _And why did I feel all...fluttery?_

An answer tried to form in the back of her mind, but she pushed it away. She had a vague idea what it was, and she didn't want to hear it, so she went off in search of one more to her liking. _Mood swings suck, huh? Maybe I_ am _about to start my period again. Can that happen? One minute I'm happy, the next I'm not, it's_ gotta _be that._

Only she wasn't going through mood swings. At least not today. She felt funny and light, and had since Lincoln threw his cereal in her face. _Heh. Asshole._ An image of him popped into her mind, and she grinned.

 _Hey, Lynn, I know what's wrong with you; you're crus..._

Lynn sat up straight, her heart seizing in terror. _Fuck you._

 _...Lincoln. Big time._

 _No I'm not._

 _Sure. Okay. You know as well as I do that you have a major..._

Lynn panicked and slammed her head against the desk. "Ow," she breathed, but it worked: The voice was gone. The cold, hollow fear remained, however. She knew damn well what that voice was going to say...and she knew that it _might_ not be entirely wrong.

"My teaching is really so awful that you're attempting suicide, Miss Loud?" the teacher asked, and the whole class looked at her.

"I saw a bug," Lynn said; it was the first thing that came to mind and just slipped out.

"Did you get it?" the teacher asked sarcastically.

Lynn held up a thumb.

"May I continue?"

"You're good."

"Thank you."

While the teacher went back into his sermon, Lynn sat up and threw her head back in an expression of misery. She had to think of something else. Something that didn't involve Lincoln.

Speaking of Lincoln, how was she going to get him back? Sure, splashing her with his cereal was funny and all, but she couldn't just let it go unpunished. She had honor and junk to defend. Hm...maybe she should dump her dinner on his head. "Oops, I'm klutzy, too." No, that was like ripping him off. She was Lynn motherfucking Loud. She could come up with her _own_ idea. Let's see, let's see...Ex-Lax? Nah, that might be going too far. Dying his hair pink? She nodded appreciatively. That would be funny, but could she pull it off? Wait until he was asleep...but he wasn't a very deep sleeper. She knew that from the time she spent sleeping in his bed when she and Lucy were arguing. God, she didn't know how good she had it during those few days...snuggled warm under the covers next to Lincoln...his body just a reach away...

Agggghhhhh!

She shoved her fist to her mouth and clamped her teeth down on her knuckle. Just _stop!_ Think about something that doesn't involve Lincoln. Doesn't. Involve. Lincoln. At all. Hey, that kid over there looks like a geek. Fucking loser. I bet he reads comic books...like Ace Savvy...in his underwear...with his yummy bul...

Lynn bit her knuckle as hard as she could; skin tore and the hot, coppery tang of blood filled her mouth. The game! What about the game on Friday? Yeah. We're gonna whip...who are we playing again? Kalamazoo? Battle Creek? Holland? Shit, why couldn't she remember? Oh, well, we're gonna kick their asses whoever they are. Did she have practice today? She thought she remembered today being canceled for some reason. She hoped not. She had a _lot_ of energy she needed to burn off.

How was she going to get him back, though? This was important stuff. One good turn deserves another, you know? What he did was pretty simple, so maybe she should go for complicated. One up him. Show him who's boss. Oh, she could fill that pool for one he bought last summer with mud and glue and set it outside his door. String a little trip wire and knock. When he comes out, BAM! Face first. Then...then...the best part...when he goes to get up, she could have a fan and throw some feathers in front of it so they get stuck to him. Hehhehheh. He'd look like a chicken. Maybe he could have Luan video tape it and post it online. WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU THROW YOUR BREAKFAST IN YOUR SISTER'S FACE? WHAT HAPPENS NEXT WILL BWOK-BWOK-BWOK-SHOCK YOU. Hehhehhehhehheh. She slapped the desk. That would be sweet.

Or she could just drive a football at his head. Something about that sounded more satisfying anyway.

* * *

Lincoln Loud opened his locker, grabbed his jacket, and shrugged into it. Thank God today's over, he thought as he started down the hall to the main doors. It wasn't a _terrible_ day. Hell, he'd had worse (much worse...like the day he spilled water on his crotch and had to walk around like he pissed himself while everyone busted their fucking guts laughing at him). Today, though...today was pretty bad. He was pretty sure he flunked at least three tests, missed a lot of stuff that would be on even more tests, and then tripped over his big, floppy feet during laps in the gym because he caught a fleeting glimpse of a girl with thick chestnut hair and a ponytail walking by in the hall and thought it was Lynn. Stupid. He should have known it wasn't her...she goes to the middle school, duh. He just...reacted. Banged the shit out of his shin, though. Even now it kind of ached, and the last time he rolled his pantleg up, he had a nasty purple bruise. Looked kind of like livor mortis.

Outside, the day was sunny and cold. A gust of wind hit him, and he shivered. He should have worn a bigger coat. He started down the stairs, and another gust plastered a leaf to his face, and he nearly tripped again. Goddamn! He ripped it off and batted it away. "Can't a guy catch a break?" First he couldn't stop thinking about Lynn (you know...his fucking _sister_ ), now the universe was actively trying to kill him. What's next, a tornado full of sharks with frickin laser beams on their heads?

He heard a rumble, and ducked. Oh, shit; I was joking! I was joking!

A garbage truck lumbered by in the street, and he laughed nervously.

ROYAL COUNTY SANITATION DEPARTMENT was stenciled across the side in faded yellow writing. Huh. You know, if you took the 'L' and the 'Y' from ROYAL and an 'N' each from COUNTY and SANITATION...

You'd have some letters. Yeah. Letters. He shoved his hands into his pockets and started down the sidewalk, scurrying as fast as he could without running as if he could outpace the thoughts racing through his head...the thoughts that were slowly coming together and forming a clear, unbroken picture of a girl with chestnut hair, soft brown eyes, and freckles. If he looked closely enough, he could make out words underneath, like a caption. There were four of them, and it looked like the first was an 'I' and the rest started with an 'L'. Somewhere deep inside he knew what those three words could be, but didn't want to think about them.

Instead, he looked around at the trees and the rocks and the houses along the sidewalk. Up ahead, a wooded hill rose up along the cement. You know, if there weren't so many trees it'd be...

Something slammed into the back of his head, and he went to his knees with a cry more of shock than pain. _Here's that shark you ordered._

Felt like a goddamn bullet.

He glanced to his left and saw what it was: It lay in the grass, rocking back and forth and mocking him.

A football.

"Lynn," he muttered, and smiled. Why was he smiling? The bitch just tried to kill him!

He staggered to his feet, snatched the ball from the ground, and turned. Up ahead, a side street lined with ranch houses branched off from the main road. Wind rustled the treetops and pushed dead leaves along the empty street.

"I know that was you, Lynn!" he cried.

The wind was the only answer.

"Come on out!"

He looked around. She wasn't behind a tree, and he didn't think she was behind the car parked at the curb. Oh, a hit and run, huh? We'll see about that. He tucked the ball under his arm and started home, a hazy smile on his face. Before he got there, he "accidentally" dropped the ball into an open gutter. Here ya go, Pennywise.


	5. Back and Forth

**STR2D3PO: The only difference is I'm not a poser ;) I watched the miniseries as a kid and read the novel in high school...I knew who Pennywise was (and associated him with storm drains) long before the new movie...which I haven't seen yet. Is it good? I've heard conflicting reviews.**

* * *

Lynn beat Lincoln home by ten minutes: When she burst through the door she was red faced and panting. Lori and Leni were on the couch, the former texting and the latter watching some gay ass soap opera on TV. They both looked up at her, Lori with a furrowed brow and Leni with a smile. "Hi. Lynn!"

"What's wrong with _you?"_

"Nothing...just...out of...breath," Lynn said. She shut the door behind her and pounded up the stairs. She hit the bathroom, then went into her room and dropped onto the bed, where she fought to catch her breath. She thought of the way Lincoln's head jerked forward when the ball hit him, and she laughed. Hehhehheh. Poor loser never saw it coming. She could have _really_ whipped it, but she went easy on him; he _was_ her brother after all.

She listened for the front door, and when she heard it open, her heart jumped. _Lincoln!_ What should she do? After knocking him onto his sissy knees, there would be hell to pay. She leapt up and looked around, her heart starting to race.

Under Lucy's bed!

She dove under and rolled onto her side just as he came into the room. She held her breath and watched his feet cross to her bed then stop and turn every which direction as he looked for her. They were big...and you know what they say about guys with big feet.

Uh...big socks.

Hehhehheh. Under here, Linc.

"Where is she?" he muttered. She could see him with his hands on his hips and one eyebrow cocked cutely. She looked around for something to throw at his face if he knelt down and looked, and landed on an old shoe. She picked it up and clutched it to her chest. Come and get it, Lincy.

With a sigh of frustration, he left the room, and Lynn crawled to the edge of the bed but didn't come out. Lincoln was a crafty little fucker, she wouldn't put it past him to be waiting outside the door.

For a long time she waited where she was, and was _just_ about to come out when her phone buzzed in her pocket, making her jump: The top of her head whacked against the bottom of the box-spring, and pain ripped across her skull. _Ahhhh, shit!_ She rubbed her scalp and pouted. I wasn't supposed to get hurt!

She took her phone out and checked it.

It was a text.

From Lincoln.

"Where are you?"

She snickered. "Guess."

A few seconds later, he came back with, "I'm on the couch if you're feeling froggy."

Oh? Was that a challenge? She shoved her phone into her pocket, crawled out, and went downstairs. Lincoln and Lucy were sitting on the couch, Lincoln's cowlick sticking up like an arrow. _Here he is! Here he is!_

An idea occurred to her, and she went up to the back of the couch, bent over his head, and took a big whiff.

Ummm...warm boy scent.

Uh...eww?

He jerked around, his brows furrowing.

"Smells like bitch in here," she said.

"That's funny," he said, "because suddenly I'm smelling fish."

Lucy chuckled. "You should smell our room after she takes her underwear off at the end of the day. It's like a warm turtle tank."

Lincoln gagged, and Lynn shot her sister daggers. "Shut up, Lucy."

"She leaves her underwear lying around, and there are strange green and yellow stains in the crotch."

Lincoln bent over and wretched. Lynn's face burned bright red as horror filled her. "My crotch does _not_ stink," she managed.

"You can fool Lincoln but you can't fool me...I smell it every day."

"Shut the fuck up, bitch," Lynn flashed.

Lincoln was still gagging; she had never felt more humiliated in her life. "I swear, Lincoln, I don't stink, honest."

"Microwave tuna," Lucy said, "and you'll get the idea."

Before she could stop herself, Lynn snatched Lucy by the hair and threw her forward; she pitched off the couch and landed on her hands and knees. Lincoln stopped gagging and threw a withering glance at Lynn. "What the fuck?"

"That bitch kept saying I stink and I don't!" Lynn was so angry she was shaking; her fingernails dug into the soft flesh of her palms.

"She was playing with your sensitive ass, damn!"

"I'm not sensitive!"

"Yes, you are! You got butthurt yesterday because I had better putdowns than you, then you got butthurt now. That's a running theme with you."

Lynn cocked her fist to hit him, but stopped herself. "Fuck you," she growled, then spun and stormed up the stairs.

"You alright, Luce?" Lincoln asked as Lucy got back onto the couch.

"I'm fine," she said. "Thanks for sticking up for me."

"Anytime."

Truth be told, he didn't do it _entirely_ for her. You gotta keep up with Lynn, tit-for-tat...counter every move...push back every time she pushes forward. _That's_ what she liked and respected, not just sitting there like a pussy.

And Lincoln cared very much about what she liked and respected.

In her room, Lynn slammed the door and dropped onto her bed, folding her arms angrily over her chest. Stupid fucking Lucy, look what she caused! She was _not_ sensitive! It really hurt her feelings that Lincoln said that...and thought that about her. She didn't want him to think she was weak.

 _I hate you, Lucy, I hope you die!_

Actually, no, Lucy might like that.

 _I hope you live forever._

She hugged herself and fought back tears. Why would Lucy say all that shit?

In front of Lincoln?

* * *

At dinner, Lynn stared down at her plate and didn't talk, look up, or engage in any way, shape, or form. She looked sad, and Lincoln's heart broke. He didn't mean to upset her; upsetting her was the _last_ thing he wanted to do.

Afterwards, he went back to his room and sat heavily on the edge of his bed. Maybe he should go apologize.

No, something told him that wasn't the best course of action. Hmmm...I know. He got up, locked his door, then went over to his desk and ripped a sheet of paper out of a notebook and tore it into tiny pieces. Next, he rummaged around for something he knew he had. After fifteen minutes, he had it: An empty McDonald's cup with a straw poking out of the top. I should probably throw this in the trash, he thought as he tossed it behind his dresser where he found it.

He climbed onto the bed and, using his fingers, he unfastened the screws holding the air vent in place (he left them loose so he didn't need a screwdriver every time he had to travel through the ducts), then braced his arms on either side of the shaft, pulling himself up with minimal grunting and straining. Inside, he crawled as slowly and quietly as he could to the vent overlooking Lynn's bed. Through the slats, he saw her sitting Indian style and paging lazily through a magazine. Target acquired.

Taking one of the pieces of paper out, he plopped it into his mouth, got it all nice and soggy, then lifted the straw to his mouth, pushing the wad into the breech with the tip of his tongue. He laid flat on his stomach, slid the barrel through one of the slots, and blew: A wad of wet paper went _splat_ against Lynn's thick brown hair. She tensed, then brushed it absently away. Lincoln popped another piece of paper into his mouth, wetted it, and loaded it up. He blew, and it struck her shoulder.

She whipped her head around and looked at it, lifting her shoulder and pulling on the fabric of her shirt with her thumb and forefinger. She looked up just as Lincoln drew away from the vent.

"Lincoln...is that you?"

It sounded like she was smiling.

The mattress creaked as she stood. Fighting back laughter, Lincoln spun and scurried back to the vent over his own bed, chewing another piece of paper and loading it into the straw as he went. He shoved his feet through and dropped just as Lynn's head poked up through her own vent, her eyes shining beautifully and a crooked smile on her freckled face. "I see you, asshole."

Lincoln lifted the straw to his lips and blew: The wad cut through the air and hit Lynn in the face; her head rocked back like she'd been shot.

"Aw, my eye!" she laughed.

"Haha!" Lincoln said.

Lynn lifted herself into the vent. "I'm coming for you, jerkoff."

Lincoln's heart started to pound. He dropped onto the bed and leapt off. Banging sounded as Lynn hurried through the shaft. He let out an involuntary scream as he fumbled with the doorknob, getting it open just as she dove out and landed on the bed. He ducked down the stairs, knocking Lori out of the way ("Watch it, prick!"), and took them two at a time. He threw a glance over his shoulder just as Lynn brushed past Lori and pounded after, a competitive grin on her face. Lori rolled her eyes and shook her head.

She was gaining! He jumped off the fourth to last step, landed at the bottom, his knees bending painfully, and then ducked around the newel post. Lynn laid a hand on the banister and jumped over, her ponytail streaming behind her like a banner. Lincoln's heart rocketed into his throat and a playful laugh burst from his lips. In the kitchen, Lola was rummaging in the fridge. "There's _never_ anything in here," she complained.

Lincoln started for the back door, but before he could reach it, it burst open and Lana came inside, tracking mud across the floor. "Hey, Linc."

Lincoln glanced over his shoulder. Lynn skitted into the kitchen, her grin widening. "I got you now, Loud," she said.

Panicking, Lincoln grabbed Lana by the front of her overalls ("Hey!") and shoved her at Lynn; the older girl caught the younger one then pushed her aside. Lincoln was already outside, running around the side of the house. He reached the front door just as Lynn appeared behind him.

Inside, he jumped onto the arm of the couch, nearly lost his balance, then ran across the cushions, leaping over Lucy and landing on his feet on the other side. Lynn banged through the door, saw him, and threw herself at him. He laughed, danced back, and started around the front of the couch. Lynn corrected, leapt onto the back (her feet inches away from Lucy's head), and then dove at him like a professional wrestler from the top rope. Lincoln's eyes widened, and then she crashed into him, knocking him to the floor. The air left his lungs in a rush.

She grabbed the front of his shirt in both hands, leaned in until their noses were almost touching, and grinned. Lincoln's heart was racing...his stomach fluttered.

 _"You're it,"_ she said, then jumped up and started running.

Oh, no you don't!

He got to his feet and gave chase. She started up the stairs, looking over her shoulder with half-lidded eyes.

In the hall, she dodged left and bumped into Lisa, knocking the girl to her ass; a beaker slipped from Lisa's hand and shattered on the floor. The contents began to sizzle on the floor. Lincoln jumped over it as Lisa began to shake. _"Goddamn it, that took me three weeks to perfect!"_

Lynn bounced off the closed bathroom door, flipped over Lincoln, landed on her feet, then jumped over Lisa, the tips of her toes grazing the top of the genius's head. Lincoln pulled a hard turn just as Lynn disappeared into his room and slammed the door.

He darted past Lisa, who watched him with narrow, venomous eyes, and threw himself against the door, but it was locked.

"Lynn!" he cried, pounding on it, "let me in!"

No answer.

"Lynn!"

He went to pound again, but stopped. Man, he was _really_ out of breath. "Come on," he wheezed.

"I hope you're happy with yourselves," Lisa grumbled. "There's a hole in the floor now. I will duly inform our parents that it was yours and Lynn's doing."

The little girl went down the stairs.

Whatever. Lincoln pounded on the door. "Lynn!"

"What?"

Lincoln spun. Lynn was leaning out of her room with a shit eating grin on her face.

"B-But..."

"Have fun getting into your room," she said, then slammed her door and locked it.

Lincoln sighed, leaned against his door, and slid down until he was sitting.

Bitch, he thought.

And smiled.


	6. An Admission

Hands softly rubbing her neck, lips kissing the spot just behind her ear and sending goosebumps up and down her back and arms. Her heart was gently pounding and she was so happy –so elated – that she felt disembodied...like a spirit floating through the fields of paradise, the sunshine of eternity warm on whatever passed for her flesh. The hands crept around her sides and she threaded her fingers through them, holding them against her stomach. Yes, her desire was great...yes, she wanted release...but she also wanted to hold his hands and relish the feeling of his warmth against her...his smell (and a familiar smell it was) in her nose...his heart beating in time with hers.

She tilted her head back into the crook of his neck and brushed her lips against his cheek. "I love you," she said, and meant it: Her heart was full to the brim of love for him and she didn't care if it made her look girly...she wouldn't hide it, _couldn't_ hide it...didn't _want_ to hide it. She wanted to be goofy and giggly and kiss him in public and hold his hand and lean into him when he slipped his arm around her shoulder. She wanted everyone to see how happy she was and how damn much she loved her man...he was precious to her, so, so, so precious, and you don't hide something precious, you show it off and let everyone see it.

She opened her eyes. Her vision was blurry (with tears of joy?), and she could only make out his vague outline. "I love you _so_ much," she said, "you..."

 _Beep-beep-beep._

The vision shattered like a plate-glass window struck by a bullet from a high velocity rifle, and the warm, fuzzy happiness drained away. _No! Come back!_

 _Beep-beep-beep._

She opened one eye and glared at the alarm clock. "I hate you," she hissed tiredly.

"Good morning to you too," Lucy said flatly.

Lynn sighed. "Not you, Dorkula. The clock."

"Oh. And for a minute I felt special."

"You are," Lynn said, slapping the OFF button, "special ed."

She lay back against the pillow and took a deep, watery breath. She tried to recall the intense joy from the dream, but couldn't, and that depressed her, because compared to that dizzy, all-over feeling...being awake was like being dead. She blinked back a rush of tears and forced herself out of bed. Lucy was propped against her pillow, her right leg thrown over her left knee and a book in her hands. "How long have you been up?" Lynn asked as she scratched her head.

"An hour," Lucy said, and flipped a page. "I like the solitude."

In the hall, Lola, Lana, Leni, and Luan were waiting for the bathroom. When she didn't see Lincoln, she felt a twinge of disappointment. She threw a glance at his door. Was he up yet?

She got into line and drew a sigh, hoping to puff out the dark, clutching feeling in her chest, but it didn't help.

Luan turned. "Hey, Lynn, wanna hear a joke?"

"Wanna get punched in the face?" Lynn grumbled. Luan's face darkened and she turned around and crossed her arms, her ponytail slapping Lynn's cheek. Lynn almost reached out and yanked it, but the sound of Lincoln's door opening stopped her. She spun, and there he was! His shoulders were stooped and his lids drooped heavily. He was wearing only his underwear, and Lynn couldn't help but notice that he had a little something going on downstairs.

A big, stupid grin spread across her face. "Hey, Linc!"

Lincoln saw her, and instantly came awake, a light appearing in his eyes. "H-Hey," he said nervously.

Lynn giggled.

Why was she giggling? He didn't even do anything funny!

Now she was blushing because she was embarrassed. Yeah, that was it, giggling over nothing was embarrassing.

He was grinning cutely, and was it her imagination, or was he...harder?

 _Don't worry about how hard your brother is,_ a small voice said forcelessly in the middle of her head, and Lynn felt something like shame. She turned away, and started. Luan was looking at her with a raised brow.

"What?" Lynn challenged.

Luan smirked and turned away. Lynn started to snatch the little bitch up by her hair, but she was suddenly aware that Lincoln was behind her...his heat...his smell...his presence...she bit her bottom lip and found herself hoping he put his arms around her hips.

Her heart was jackhammering now and drawing breath was hard.

 _Hahahah, you have a cru..._

 _Shut up! No I don't!_

Hurry up, line!

She had to get away from him...and _now_.

"It took me two hours to get into my room last night," Lincoln said, his breath hot against her neck. Her skin tingled.

She giggled. "Did it?"

"Yup," he said. "Lana was mad because I pushed her into you, so she wouldn't help me, and no one would let me use the vents in their room, so I had to use a credit card."

Lynn laughed uproariously at the image of him standing outside his door, worrying the lock with a credit card while looking frustrated.

"That's what you get when you toe-to-toe with Lynn Loud."

"I've noticed," he said and drew away from her, the back of his neck suddenly hot with shame. He was breathing in her scent and getting drunk on it. His dick was twitching against the inside of his briefs, and he came so close to putting his hands on her hips that for a moment he thought he was actually going to do it. It wasn't like he wanted his sister or anything, really, she just looked so soft...and warm...and the way she looked at him and the way she giggled...

 _Jesus Christ, dude, you got issues._

He took a deep, calming breath. No, no he didn't. He was just a little keyed up from his dream last night, that was all. He couldn't remember much about it, only that it involved a girl and she was naked.

And pressed between him and the bed.

What color hair did she have again? He wished he could remember.

 _Brown._

No, it wasn't brown.

 _Brown._

No, it wasn't, shut up.

 _And brown eyes and frec..._

You're mistaken, my friend. She had black hair. Ronnie Anne! Yeah, that's who it was. Hot dream. He _thought_ he was kissing her neck, and her skin was salty and warm and tasted _sooooo_ good. Yep. He and Ronnie Anne did it...he and Ronnie Anne and no one else.

He suddenly felt very self-conscious.

When her turn for the bathroom came, Lynn scurried in and hurriedly showered, not even daring to wash between her legs lest she wind up washing a little _too_ vigorously. Why was she giggling and shit?

 _Because you..._

I didn't ask _you_ , bitch.

When she was done, she toweled off and got dressed. In the mirror over the sink, her eyes were distant and the corners of her mouth were turned up in a smile. She drew a deep breath and let it out evenly. _There's something wrong with me._

Sigh.

In the hall, Lincoln was waiting with his arms crossed, and when she saw him her heart bounced. She averted her eyes and hurried past. In the kitchen, she grabbed a sports bar and a bottle of Sunny D from the fridge. In the dining room, she dropped into an empty chair, smiling because it was next to the only other empty chair, which meant...

"So, Lynn," Lori said, "I like your shirt."

There was an undercurrent of malice in her voice that made Lynn inwardly groan. "Thanks," she said guardedly.

"It's almost as red as your face."

Everyone snickered. What the hell did _that_ mean?

"I've never seen someone blush so hard," Lola said, "she's in love."

Panic filled Lynn. Was she blushing? She touched her cheeks, and they _did_ feel kind of warm.

"I wonder with _who_ ," Luna said with half-lidded eyes.

"Oh, I have an idea," Lori said, and fixed Lynn with a mocking glare. Lynn's heart bounced. _No you don't! Wait, no, I'm not in love period! At all! Ever!_

"I think I know too," Leni said, "does he, like, have...a little cowlick?"

"You're gross," Lynn said.

"And chipped teeth?" Luan asked, flicking Lynn's arm.

Lynn whipped around. Her heart was crashing. "No!"

A ghost of a grin touched Lucy's face. "Forbidden love...the best kind."

From the corner of her eye, Lynn saw Lincoln coming in, and she was powerless to do anything but turn to him.

"Ah, _there_ he is," Lana said in a singsong voice. Lincoln lifted an eyebrow.

"The man of Lynn's dreams," Lori said.

Lincoln's step faltered.

"You know what it means when a girl picks on a boy, right?" Luna asked.

"And Lynn's been picking on Lincoln _hard_ ," Lori smiled.

Lincoln's cheeks turned deep red when he caught the gist of what they were saying.

"It's not true, Lincoln!" Lynn blurted. "They're busting our balls!"

"If it's not true, then why are you blushing like crazy?" Lori taunted.

Lynn knew it was true: Her face was red hot, and so was her chest. "I'm not blushing!"

"You're in love with Lincoln," Lola said, a mean-spirited smile crossing her face. Next to her, Lisa sighed. "I don't think I need to point out how inherently abnormal incestuous designs are, Lynn. You are disgusting and make me ill."

"I swear to God!"

"We've seen the way you look at him," Lori said, "and the way you giggle...and what was that yesterday, chasing him around with your tongue hanging out? You're totally crushing on him."

Lincoln looked stricken.

"But the good news is," Lori said, and glanced at her brother, "he feels the same way."

Lincoln jerked as if shot. "No I don't! I don't feel like that!"

Everyone laughed. "Yes, you do, Lincy," Leni said. "You like Lynn."

"You make me just as sick as Lynn does, Lincoln," Lisa said. "You two are perverse and deserve each other. Just don't taint our gene pool with your defective offspring."

"I don't like Lincoln!" Lynn moaned. "I really don't!"

"And I don't like Lynn! You gotta believe me!"

Lori snickered behind her hand. "Oh, we believe you...not! Kiss and get it over with."

"Fuck you!" Lynn shouted. She swiped the Sunny D off the table and jumped up. "You guys are fucking sick!"

She brushed past Lincoln, who stood there like he was in shock.

It was true, damn it; he liked Lynn...his own sister. He'd known it since at least last night...he just didn't want to admit it. It's wrong, it's sick, it's against God and nature and society...but he couldn't help it.

He totally fucking liked her.

His knees went weak and he nearly fell.

"You know what they say, bro," Luna said, "falling in love is hard on the knees."

"She really likes you, Lincoln," Lori said musically, "you should kiss her."

"I guarantee you one thing," Luan said, "she won't punch you in the face like Ronnie Anne did...she'll kiss you back!"

Cruel, mocking laughter followed Lincoln as he floated into the living room. He needed to sit down...needed time to think...to come to terms with the fact that he was a disgusting pervert...and the fact that _Lynn liked him too!_

Outside, Lynn dropped onto the top step and buried her face in her trembling hands. They were right...that pack of stupid bitches was entirely and completely right...she was in love with Lincoln, and you know what? She didn't give a shit if he _was_ her brother. He was cute, smart, cunning, tough, caring, compassionate, kind, loving, tender, not a pussy, and...and...and everything else you could ever want in a guy.

She heaved a sigh. This is fucked. Fucked beyond belief.

An image of him popped into her mind, and she smiled. If this is fucked, she didn't want to be...uh...unfucked.

Did he really feel the same way? Oh, God, he does, doesn't he? Lori was a mean, bossy bitch, but she was totally right about her...chances are she was right about Lincoln too. Lynn's stomach churned. Wow, he likes me too? She broke out in a stupid grin and bowed her head; she was suddenly so happy that the dream looked like a pile of puke by comparison.

She couldn't be sure, though. Lincoln liking her the way she liked him seemed too good to be true.

How could she find out?

The door opened, and she jumped. Lincoln came out, saw her, and blushed furiously. He backed into the house and closed the door behind him.

Hm.


	7. The Final Spar

**To whoever asked for the sisters to get theirs (I didn't check the reviews for your name before uploading, sorry), you'll be happy to know that they do.**

* * *

 _This is_ not _good, this is_ not _good, this is_ not _good._

All day those same four words looped through Lincoln's mind like some kind of damaged, antiquated media...like a broken record, okay? It was good that Lynn liked him (or he _thought_ she liked him), but it wasn't good that all his sisters knew. What if one of them snitched? He could see Lola now, _Daddy...Lynn and Lincoln have the hots for each other. You might wanna get on that._

He wouldn't put it past the little bitch. Man, what do they do when you're...you know...into...your sister? Decades of therapy? The guillotine? Gasp...oh, God, what if it was something even worse...like another one of Dad's awkward sex talks? Lincoln shivered from head-to-toe, vaguely aware that he looked like Elaine from _Seinfeld_ trying to dance and not caring. Let the kids in the hall look...he was in the middle of a crisis here. He couldn't survive another forty-five minutes of Dad making obscene hand gestures, stuttering, and blushing every time he had to say "penis" and "vagina." He'd rather just go to therapy.

As long as Lynn went with him.

A hazy smile touched his lips and his eyes took on a dreamy, faraway look. They could hold hands as the doctor scolded them, and if there was only one chair she could sit in his lap...

He started to stir, and bent over to hide his growing erection. God, he was a perv. But, hey, so was Lynn...they could be pervs together. Oh, Lincoln liked that thought...he liked it a lot. Maybe...

"Hey, Loud!" a taunting voice called from behind him. "Why are you walking funny? Did your Dad molest you all night again?"

And _there_ he was, Poppa Wheelie, all eight-hundred-fucking pounds of him. Lincoln was friends with Poppa the way the other kids in South Park were friends with Cartman: He tolerated his constant bullshit because every once in a while, he could be a pretty cool dude...about as often as Haley's Comet came around.

"Fuck you," Lincoln tossed over his shoulder.

"Or was it one of your tranny sisters?"

Kids were pointing and laughing now. The fuck did he just say? Lincoln turned, and Poppa was there, his gut busting out of a black DC t-shirt, his hands on his gelatinous hips and his cheeks rosy with malice. He looked like Jabba the Hutt, if Jabba the Hutt gained a bunch of weight and lost his looks.

Poppa's eyes gleamed and his evil smile widened. "I bet it was Lynn. She looks like _she_ has a dick."

Lincoln was no an impulsive boy, but you don't talk smack about a girl a guy likes, know what I mean? He didn't realize he was striking until his fist was crashing into one of Poppa's many chins. Poppa cried out and fell to his ass. Everyone stopped laughing and started moving slowly away, because when a geek snaps, it usually means candlelight vigils and gun control debates in Congress.

Instead of opening a can of Klebold, Lincoln simply stood over the now blubbering behemoth, his fists clenched and his chest heaving. "You don't talk shit about my sister, bitch," he growled.

" _I'm sorry!"_ Poppa sobbed, _"please don't hit me again!"_

Satisfied that he'd learned his lesson, Lincoln turned, and bumped into Principal Riley, a tall, stern-faced man with icy blue eyes and a graying crewcut. His hands were on his hips and his face was dark.

Oh, shit.

"Feeling your oats today, huh, Loud?"

"Uh, I..."

Principal Riley grabbed him by the arm and dragged him down the hall, throwing a disgusted glance at Poppa, who sat on the floor and wept into his hands. "Jesus. Man up, kid."

When they reached his office, Principal Riley flung Lincoln into a chair in front of his desk, sat down, and glared at him over tented fingers. "I'm conflicted, Loud. Part of me wants to throw you under the bus for punching people in my hallway, and another part wants to shake your hand: That kid is so goddamn annoying I hear him in my sleep sometimes."

He had a chance to get out of this! "Look, Principal Riley, he was talking trash about my sister. You have a sister, don't you?"

"Yes," Principal Riley said, and Lincoln's hope soared. "I hate her guts."

Whistle. Boom. Those are the sounds Lincoln's hopes and dreams made as they crashed back to earth.

"Well...my family's really close, so, uh, it's like he was talking smack about my grandma. You know?"

"You don't talk smack about a man's grandmother," Principal Riley said with a curt nod. "I've knocked people out for talking bad about my nana."

"Right?"

Principal Riley sighed. "Alright, Loud, I'll let you go with a warning. If that fat bastard gives you anymore problems, take it to the teacher...I've been looking for an excuse to expel that son of a bitch anyway. Ahhhh, imagine the peace."

So _that's_ how Lincoln got away with punching Poppa Wheelie in his fat, stupid face. Every time Lincoln saw him the rest of that day, Poppa would cringe and hold his hands up defensively. Serves you right, you corpulent piece of shit. How fucking _dare_ you talk about Lynn that way? Lynn looked _nothing_ like a dude. And Lincoln imagined she was certainly _not_ packing a schlong between her legs. Hmmm, what _did_ she have, though? He conjured up a picture in his head, and shivered with delight. It was pink and slick and...oh, look, a raging erection and class ends in five minutes. Beautiful. Just what my day needed.

He tried _not_ to imagine sinking his hard-on into his sister, but, you know, shit happens and he did. When the bell rang, he grabbed his textbook, held it in front of his crotch, and hunched over like a little old man. He passed Poppa, who glanced fearfully up.

"You got something to say this time?" Lincoln asked.

Poppa paled and held his hands up. "N-N-No, sir."

"That's what I thought."

 _This is_ not _good, this is_ not _good._ He had an unashamed boner over his sister and all of his other sisters knew how he felt. You know...Lola might only be six, but if she ran her mouth, Lincoln would knock her out...widen that gap in her teeth a little.

Not good, not good, not good...

* * *

Lynn Loud pressed her hands to her crotch and crossed her legs. She was super horny. Every time she let her guard down, the dream came back to her, only this time around she knew _exactly_ who was touching and kissing her from behind...hint: He had white hair, freckles, and lived, like, two doors away from her bedroom.

The hot pressure between her legs was manageable. You're horny for your brother, alright. While that's not normal, it's carnal, ya know. What _really_ bothered her was the fluttery feeling in her stomach and the achiness in her chest. Being hot for your brother was one thing, but, like, being in love with him?

Oh well. She was and that was that. Now...how to find out if he really felt the same. She could go with the classic 'grab his balls and see what he does' approach; if he didn't seem into it, just squeeze the shit out of them and laugh like that's what you were going to do all along. Hmmm, nah. She couldn't do that to him even _if_ he wasn't into her. At the end of the day he was still her brother and she still loved him as such; she could be kind of mean to him sometimes, but hurting his balls on purpose? Maybe if he really made her mad she could kick him there, but that'd be a spur-of-the-moment type of thing that she would instantly regret.

What _else_ could she do? Flash him? Ooooh, that might work. Get totally naked and wrap a towel around her body. _Hey, Linc, c'mere, I need your help._ Then when he showed, an accident would happen, the towel would fall, and she would be totally and utterly exposed. _Whoops. Heh. Like what you see?_ And if he did, he could come to her and kiss her and touch her and...

...she squeezed her legs. If she didn't knock it off she'd have a big wet patch on the front of her shorts, and everyone would either think she pissed herself...or they'd know exactly what it was and think she was some kind of sex pervert.

Alright. Think about the game. The game, the game, the game. Balls, sweating, getting tackled, Lincoln thrusting into her...ahhhhhh! No! That has _nothing_ to do with football! She shook her head. Okay. What about that test she had coming up? History or some shit? She was _so_ going to flunk it. Then again...maybe if she focused _really_ hard, she could scrape by; if Lincoln played with her hair, she could focus all day long!

Hot moisture spread between her legs. No!

The bell rang, startling her, and she was up like a shot, streaking through the hall and rushing to the bathroom. In one of the stalls, she locked the door, yanked her shorts down, and grabbed some toilet paper. She wiped, and oh yeah, she was _wet_.

One more class...one more class then she could go home and _hopefully_ do something with her brother.

One more class.

And it was the _longest_ class ever. She sat with her chin in her palm and thought of Lincoln, to hell with the teacher. Ummmm...the way he filled those little undies of his. She wanted to touch his bulge through them _badly_ , just lay him down and take her time touching, stroking, caressing, brushing, and rubbing until his head leaked and he was as wet as she was. Then she'd strip them off, climb on top of him, and bring herself slowly down, her lips slipping around his head, his head pushing into her, parting her...

Throwing a quick glance around the room, she took a wad of toilet paper from her pocket, shoved her hand down the front of her shorts, and wiped. It came back almost dripping. Gross. But kind of interesting, too. She held the tissue up and studied it. Is this what Lincoln's nut looked like? Well...she knew it wasn't exactly...but was it close? She'd very much like to see it...on her hand, her stomach, her breasts, all over...she wanted to be covered in his hot cum and...

 _I sound like a fucking slut._

But don't we all when we're horny?

When the final bell rang, Lynn leapt out of her seat, shoved some skank with blue hair, Buddy Holly glasses, and a nose ring out of the way and burst out into the hall, sliding sideways before pounding toward the door. _Here I come, Linc. Prepare your penis!_

* * *

"Violence is never the answer, buddy," Clyde said. He and Lincoln were walking home; Lincoln's head was thrown back and a scowl played across his lips. For the last ten minutes Clyde had been preaching to him about nonviolence and pacifism and shit. It was getting on Lincoln's nerves. "You should have told a teacher."

Lincoln glanced at his friend and seriously considered punching him; it'd shut him up, guaranteed. He couldn't do that, though. Clyde got on his nerves sometimes, but he was a cool dude overall, and Lincoln kind of wanted to stay friends with him.

"Yep," Lincoln said.

"Gandhi said..."

Lincoln tuned him out as they turned onto Franklin Avenue. When they reached his house, he slapped Clyde on the back, "Gotta blast, sorry, dude, later," and rushed away. In the living room, he took his backpack off and hung it up. Lori and Leni looked up from the couch, their features flattening in an identical expression of half-lidded mischief. "Hey, Lincy," Lori cooed.

"Lynn's here," Leni grinned.

"Yeah?" Lincoln asked, trying to play it cool and pretend that his heartbeat _didn't_ just speed up. "She lives here, so..."

He started up the stairs.

"Go to her, Lincy," Lori said.

"Make her a woman," Leni snickered.

"Pop her cherry."

"Lose your virginity to your sister."

"Pull out and paint your name on her stomach with jizz."

Lincoln's face was beet red, but...that really wasn't such a bad idea. At the head of the stairs, he glanced toward Lynn's room and thought of going in...you know...to say hi...but went into his instead. He closed his door and started for the bed, but something crashed into him and knocked him to the floor.

 _Poppa Wheelie's back for more._

Summoning all his strength, Lincoln bucked his attacker off his back with a cry of fury and jumped to his knees; an arm wrapped around his throat from behind. "Motherfucker!" Lincoln growled as his air supply was cut off. He reached his arms back and grabbed two handfuls of thick, soft hair.

Uh...Poppa?

Lincoln yanked, and Lynn cried out, her grip releasing. Acting fast, Lincoln rammed his elbow back and caught her in the stomach. The air rushed out of her in an "Oof" and she fell back against the floor. Lincoln spun and mounted her, his heart crashing and his breathing short. "You _bitch_ ," he spat. She sneered and cocked her fist, but he grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the floor. She glared at him with dark eyes.

...Now what?

An idea came to him, and he grinned. "So...I hear you like me."

A flicker of light danced through her eyes. "You're a bitch," she breathed.

He tightened his grip on her wrists and leaned in. He was getting hard and he didn't care. "You have a crush on me, don't you?"

The tips of their noses were almost touching; their hot breaths mingled. "Fuck you," she panted.

He shifted his hips, and his bulge rubbed against her crotch. Her brow twitched and Lincoln smiled. "You liked that."

"You're a pervert. I'm gonna tell Dad."

She wasn't trying to push him away, which told Lincoln that that was a lie. He slid himself against her again, and her breath caught. "Come on, Lynn," he said, "admit you like me. I mean...I _am_ pretty great."

She spat in his face.

He laughed. "You're a bad girl, Lynn," he said, and rubbed against her again. She uttered a breathy moan and her eyelids fluttered. He hovered his face above hers. "But that's okay...I _like_ bad girls." He pressed his lips against hers, and thrilled when she jammed her tongue excitedly into his mouth, swirling it around his and licking the roof of his mouth. He kissed her back, her sweet taste filling him and making him lightheaded. He held her wrists tighter as he prodded deeper, their tongues wrestling for dominance. Lincoln was flooded with adrenaline, his balls heavy and his rod throbbing hotly against her crotch, her heat radiating through layers of clothes. He was _not_ about to let her win.

She moaned into his mouth and lifted her hips. Lincoln pulled away from her lips and kissed each one of the freckles on her left cheek. She purred happily, and he released her wrists, plunging his hands into her hair. It was so much softer, and warmer, than it looked, like silk. She ran her hands up and down his back, her breath puffing out in short, hot gasps. His heart pounded against hers and her heart pounded against his. Where one stopped and another began was anyone's guess.

Her hands worried at his waistband. He pulled back and drew himself to his knees. She propped herself up on her elbows and took deep, heaving breaths. Her face was a lovely shade of red. For a moment, they only looked at each other.

Then Lincoln unzipped his jeans, and Lynn grinned. "Race ya," she said, and hooked her thumbs into her shorts. Lincoln yanked his pants and underwear down, his dick springing out and pointing possessively at Lynn. Her eyes widened, and she froze, her shorts and underwear halfway down her thighs.

"You alright?" he asked apprehensively.

She looked from it to his face and then back again. "That's the hottest thing I've ever seen," she said.

Lincoln pulled his pants entirely off, then his briefs. Lynn shook her head, then stripped until she was wearing only her jersey and her socks. Lincoln started for her, but she surprised him by springing and tackling him to the floor, her arms wrapping around his neck and her lips smooshing against his. She straddled him, and his tip pressed against her scorching center. He let out a strangled cry as her wet heat touched him. It felt so good it hurt...or hurt so bad it felt good...he wasn't exactly in the frame of mind to tell the difference.

She laid her hands on his chest and looked down at him with a smirk. "I _do_ have a crush on you," she said, and brought herself down: His head penetrated her, and he hissed at the intense sensation of her slick walls tightening around him. "I-I have it _bad_." She threw her head back and lowered herself even more, his shaft sinking slowly and maddeningly into her well. "You _are_ pretty great."

She jerked down, and his entire length filled her. He cried out and his hands flew to her hips. She moaned and rocked against him. Oh, fuck. Lincoln never imagined it would feel this good. He was close and he'd barely done anything.

"Lincoln..." she moaned. She bent and flattened her chest against his, her nose touching his and her eyes staring into his eyes. She thrusted, taking him deep. Her eyelids narrowed and she looked away, her breathing suddenly very ragged. His hands crept up from her hips until they were cupping her cheeks. He could feel his orgasm starting to rise and tried to fight it back.

Lynn bit her lower lip and thrusted faster, her hips pumping furiously. "Shit..." she panted, "I'm close."

Oh, thank God; she was a minute man too. He stopped fighting and let himself go, pressing his hands against her butt and holding her as close as he could as he shot into her. She moaned and trembled as her own orgasm welled up and overtook her.

Afterwards, she lay with her face in the crook of his neck, panting and trying to decide if she should be pleased with herself...or ashamed. The way her brother's hot seed coted her walls felt _so_ incredibly good, and that's what decided her. She pushed herself up and looked down at him.

"Ready for round two?"

Lincoln grinned. "You're on, Loud."

* * *

Lori sighed. "Lana, you smell."

All of the Loud girls were clustered on the couch, save for Lynn; everyone knew where she was and what she was doing, but no one dared bring it up.

"Fuck you," Lana said.

"It's her rotten pussy," Lola said. "She _never_ washes."

"You're one to talk," Luan said. "Every time you come home from a pageant I can smell the cum between your legs. Do you fuck _all_ the judges, or just enough to win?"

Lola crossed her arms. "At least I can _get_ laid, chainsaw mouth."

Luan's face darkened. "Fuck you."

Luna laughed. "Luan hopes and prays every time she goes to a party that someone drugs and rapes her, but they never do."

"Luan's, like, going to be a virgin forever," Leni said.

"Unless she pays for it," Lucy added.

Luan's face was getting red.

"Her hymen will remain always intact," Lisa said.

Luan exploded. "I'm gonna go fuck some guy just to prove to you bitches I can. I'll fuck a whole truckload of guys. I'll let them cover me in cum and then you'll all eat your fucking words."

Everyone laughed. "Luan's a slut!" Lori said.

"She likes anal!" Leni said.

"You're a disgusting whore," Lisa said.

"Tramp," Lola said.

"Bitch," Lana said.

Luan opened her mouth, but a loud gasp stopped her. Everyone turned to see Mom and Dad standing on the stairs. Uh-oh.

"I can _not_ believe what I'm hearing!" Mom yelled.

"Girls," Dad put in, "you're all grounded for the rest of the month!"

"No!" Lori cried.

"Damn," Luna sighed.

Lola huffed.

Luan bowed her head in shame.

Payback's a bitch, isn't it?


End file.
